By Bryce Kerschner '14
Every
year, students pass by many windows located in McCormick Hall en route to
classes, events, or various activities throughout the school year. Having lived
in McCormick for a year during my sophomore year at Pacific University, I
remember passing by the same window on the east wing stairwell. The only
feature which made this window distinct happened to be a small plaque
proclaiming it as “Paul’s Window.”
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| Paul's Window is located in the stairwell of McCormick Hall |
Being
the only memorial on campus dedicated to a student lost in World War II, other
than the Alpha Zeta walk located behind Marsh Hall, its vagueness left me
wanting to know more both about Paul and Pacific’s history with veterans.
The
plaque was dedicated in the Mac Hall on October 25, 1947 by former President Walter
Giershbach. The wing was expanded to accommodate an increased enrollment at
Pacific resulting from veterans returning from the war to complete their
education. Paul Osterander was one of the many who were not as lucky to return,
dying one month before his twenty-first birthday.
Paul
was born the youngest of three children in 1924 near Whitewater, Wisconsin. His
father, Clinton, was a veteran in the First World War who became a minister
once he returned to the states. After being ordained in a congressional church
in Omaha, Reverend Osterander moved his family out to Wisconsin, where Paul was
born.
Always
the adventurous child, Paul started out as a lackluster student. While being
both unenthusiastic and poor in several class categories, Paul didn’t really
connect with the material until after his parents relocated to the Seattle
area.
In
his junior year of high school, Paul earned his first “A” in a geometry course
which sparked a higher application in the rest of his course work. His marks
improved throughout his senior year and gave Paul the chance to enroll in college
to study law.
During
his freshman year at Pacific, Paul was very involved with the many activities
on campus ranging from the freshman mixer, rookie initiation, homecoming and
the attempted burning of the Linfield bonfire. Paul also found himself on the
road with the debate team, doing yearbook artwork in the basement of Marsh Hall
and was an active member of Phi Beta Tau. However, he also had a deeper
reflective side.
What
many may not have known was that Osterander deeply opposed the war. Despite his
personal convictions and religious upbringing, Paul chose to enlist in the Army
Corps reserve and was called to active duty in February of 1943.
By
the summer, Paul was a cadet in flight training at an Army airbase in the
Southwest, which appealed to his adventurous side, athleticism, and love of
nature. Paul graduated from advanced training as an exceptional pilot earning
the coveted silver wings and commission as a Second Lieutenant. Before
deployment to England Paul was chosen to fly the single-engine P-47
“Thunderbolt” fighter and was assigned as a replacement pilot with the 78th
Fight Group near the village of Duxford, north of London.
In
the autumn, Paul was flying missions over the continent supplying protective
cover above American bomber formations striking strategic targets in Germany.
Despite
many pilots trying to aggressively run up a string of personal “victories,”
Paul had an immense satisfaction in protecting the bombers and their crews and
was pleased to be referred to as “angels from heaven” by the men he protected. As
the missions continued and their hazard levels rose, Paul had mixed feelings
about the operations which he revealed to his parents in a letter in January of
1945:
“I
think that I am near to being a pacifist. I admit that I am not a good soldier
when it comes to strafing in particular. I never get the urge to…tear down to
the ground and shoot everything that is German. But when I read an article
about ‘Nazi War factories’ I know that if I were to come close to anything like
that I would be certainly moved to do something.”
Being
only 20 years old, Paul was a flight leader and soon would become assistant
operations officer of his squadron. It was his level of maturity that stood out
among all of Paul’s admirable qualities and served him well in the next year.
Two months shy of his 21st birthday, he was a veteran of over fifty
combat missions.
On
March 31, 1946 Paul was escorting bombers to Stendal, in north-central Germany
when they encountered heavy flak from enemy gunners. A quick inspection by his
wingman revealed only a small hole in the tail of Paul’s plane but just to be
on the safe side they set a course for Duxford. After crossing the Dutch
coastline, they headed across the North Sea towards England. About 50 miles west
of The Hague the engine in Paul’s plane unexpectedly caught fire and forced the
pilot to bail out. As he descended towards the sea, Paul’s inflatable life raft
fell away but he still managed to get out of his parachute. His wingman circled
overhead but with the rough sea he only managed to keep him in sight for a few
minutes after attempting to navigate the Air-Sea Rescue plane to the location
of the downed pilot. Despite the many hours of searching, Paul was gone.
Paul Osterander died just shy
of his twenty-first birthday. A month after Paul’s death, Hitler committed
suicide as the Russians closed in on his bunker in Berlin. A week later, the
war in Europe was over. In the two years since he left Pacific to fight a war
he was reluctant to enter, he had flew sixty combat missions but did it with a
moral code based on respect and honor. In a letter to his parents he recorded
his thoughts about the war, and ultimately his fate:
“As far as my feelings on the
war are concerned, I do not like it. When I see what they are doing to Germany
and the great cities, the futility of it all is the thing that hurts. When I
see what a tough time the GI Joes (ground troops) are having…I have nothing to
say, I am a bystander. I have no more right to live than the hundreds who have
died unjustly, yet I am willing to try what others will try. If you don’t
understand this just rest easy and remember that I am happy no matter what
happens.”
As I paused to read the plaque
adorning the window of McCormick Hall, I thought to myself how my feelings
would have been different if I knew Paul’s story. A man who sacrificed an
undoubtedly successful future for generations to come, even if it meant to
support an act he found disdainful. But the way Paul approached the war without
sacrificing his moral or ethical code spoke bold words about his maturity
despite being very young and inexperienced.
Perhaps this is the true
message of Paul’s Window, not one glorifying war or those fallen but who will
you be when the unexpected happens. Would you still be able to uphold your
moral code? Could you still make the best of the situation? Most importantly,
don’t forget about a man who exemplified a good and just person; a simple
student who wrote beautiful poetry about a world free of violence and full of
love.
The same man who became a war
hero because he realized without sacrificing his life towards ending the
violence it soon would reign over many more innocent lives like his own. Think
of Paul on Veteran’s Day this year and stop by McCormick Hall and look out
through his window sometime and see life through his eyes.
Kerschner '14 is the Communication Assistant for the Office of Alumni Relations.
